The Siren
by DissolutionistPen
Summary: In an alternate universe where Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark managed to convince the Districts that they were both madly in love and there was no Victor's pool for the Quarter Quell, Morlais Brid finds herself in a precarious position when her name is reaped for the 76th Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1 The Reaping

_AN: Salutations to all readers unknown and, well, unknown. I have begun this adventure of penning my own fanfiction and I can only hope that it goes well, or at least that people actually like it. Hopefully, I didn't make to many horrible mistakes in the process, as that would be just slightly embarrassing considering the number of times I have read and reread this chapter. If you, the reader, notice anything amiss feel free to message me in some way to inform me of the error. No, seriously, __**feel free**__... I tried to make sure that the main character, Morlais, didn't seem like a Mary Sue or anything like that, but I'm not quite sure if I managed it completely. I'm not entirely sure if it's possible to make a good fanfiction containing an OC without having said OC have some sort of clicheness to them. And just so we're all on the same page, by Mary Sue, I mean the original context of the phrase that was coined by Paula Smith to describe Lieutenant Mary Sue in a Star Trek book, not the modern day ones that I always want to personally kill. _

_Anyway, LET THE GAMES BEGIN!_

Chapter One ~ The Reaping

Making their way through the streets of District 4, was a small group of children ranging all ages. They crowded around the legs of the oldest of their group, a tall girl with striking green eyes and long bronze hair. She herded them towards the town square the same way a mother hen would her chicks. As the neared the large square, she halted the group and knelt to the ground.

"Okay, you all know the drill," she said loud enough for all seven children to hear, "Sammie, your the oldest not in the Reaping. You need to take the younger ones and make sure no one gets lost." Sammie, a young girl with her brown hair in pigtails, sniffed and jumped forward to hug the girl that had been her mother for as long as she could remember.

"Morlais, promise you won't leave." Morlais stiffened. She never made a promise unless she could keep it and this was one she couldn't keep.

"You know I can't. Sammie look at me. All of you look at me," she pulled the little girl away from her and gathered them all around so they could see her face, "I'm eighteen and I have a tessera out for each of you. My names in that bowl fifty-six times. The odds aren't exactly in my favor."

Sammie wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded. Then she took the hands the two toddlers and lead three of the others to the spectator section. Morlais stood up, dusted off her worn dress, and took the hands of the last two children that stood by her side.

"Weston, Dolly, we need to get you two checked in," She said to them.

"Morlais, what if one of our names gets picked?" Morlais looked down at the upturned face of a small girl.

"This is the first Reaping for both of you. You should be safe," she told them hoping that she was correct, "Now go to that line right there," she pointed to a short line of other twelve year old's, "From there you'll go to a roped off section in the very back. Stay together and you'll be fine." Looking at her uncertainly, the two headed off in the direction she had pointed, leaving Morlais to stand by herself.

'Time for hell," she thought and began walking to the line marked for the eighteen year old's. As always the Peacekeeper pricked her figure and took her name before shoving her past him to the the roped off section that she would stand in that year.

She stood there emotionlessly as the Mayor began to read the history of Panem, describing the Dark Days, the Uprising and the Treaty of Treason that had given the world the ever loved Hunger Games. She barely even registered the voice of the District 4 escort, Hester Falon, as she began the Reaping process by declaring, "Ladies first." The whole time she was to busy thinking, not Weston, not Weston. Anyone, but him.

Dolly had a chance of being pulled too, but she knew that even if Dolly was picked she'd be safe because the volunteer this year was a girl and there would barely be time for Dolly to make it to the stage before that bitch, Harper Greene, raised her hand. Weston though - there would be no male volunteer. The Academy had decided a while back that only one tribute would volunteer each year, since only one could come home. The other was always reaped.

"Morlais Bríd," was the first thing that penetrated her ears. She stood frozen to the spot for a full second. The silence seemed deafening. A sickening feeling began to form in the pit of her stomach as she slowly made her way out of the eighteen year old pen and towards what she thought surly would be her death.

If she knew Harper Greene well enough, and she was almost positive that she did, she would rather watch Morlais die on live television then volunteer to be tribute in her place. Their depth of hate for one another was that strong. Morlais closed her eyes against the staring crowd and, taking a deep breath, began to count to ten. On each count a bit of her life seemed to flash in front of her.

* * *

_One_: She was four years old again, sitting on her father's knee. Her curly bronze hair was tied into two little braids on either side of her face. She watched eagerly as her dad pulled an old deck of playing cards from his worn shirt pocket. She had always loved this part of the evening.

"This is a family heirloom," her papa whispered to her is his gravely voice. "It's been passed down from generation to generation." He flipped over the first card so she could see the faded details of the Queen of Spades. The magnificent lady was sparsely covered in beautiful pale golden scales. Her dress was a glowing gown of blues and greens, her hair fell in curly waves around her shoulders, and her seaweed eyes stared out from the image.

Morlais was always mesmerized by the Queens beauty. She seemed to shine with an inner wisdom that Morlais could never fathom with her young and innocent mind. She reached out with a small hand and caressed the old paper, causing her father to laugh deep in his chest.

"You like that one do you? That's the Siren, the queen of the sea. It's said that she is a master of illusion and can trick the wicked me into their down fall. And this," he pulled out another card from the old deck, "is her King, the King of Hearts. He has a fiery temper to balance out the Queens cool logic and he has the ability to ensnare the darkness in his traps.

Technically, her King should be of Spades, but I've always thought it made a better story combining fire and water." Morlais giggled in agreement. The King sat on an smoldering throne of ivory wood. Flames encased his frame like prestigious robes that showed his position of greatness. Adorning his head of coal black hair was a glowing crown of dying embers.

Together the two made a striking pair.

_Two_: It was a year later and she was now five. Her papa had her on his lap again and was showing her a few tricks he had learned over the years.

"See these cards?" he asked softly as to not disturb his sleeping wife. He held up the deck that she loved so much.

"Yes, Papa," she answered happily.

"Pick one and remember it, but don't let me see," he warned. Morlais reached forward with a short arm and pulled one from his grasp. It was the Ace of Diamonds. She loved the way the wind seemed to be alive in the small picture. The humanoid form of the Ace was made from pale lavender tendrils of air that swirled down and out to create an octopus like image. In his hands, he held a jewel increased sword of pure diamond. She was sure she'd be able to remember it.

"Memorized your card yet?" When she nodded her head in affirmation he said, "Okay now put it back in the pile any where you please." Morlais placed it in the middle of the deck and then watched in awe as the cards seemed to spin and twirl in an intricate dance through the air. When they finally came to a halt, her papa set the deck on a side table and reached up to her ear to withdraw a single card.

"Is this your card?" he asked as he handed her the Ace of Diamonds. Morlais clapped her hands in glee and her father grinned.

"This, Lacy, is one of my favorite cards," her papa explained. "The Ace of Diamonds has a tragic story of forbidden love." Morlais looked up at her father with her wide eyes.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He was in love with the Siren Queen," he explained, "but, he was a Diamond Royal Guard. He could never be with her or tell her of his love. Instead, he watched over her in secret and kept her safe from harm always," he softly said as he held the card in front of them.

"But one day there came a threat nearly to great for him to handle. When it came towards the end, he realized that either he must die or she would. So, for his love, he laid down his life and gave her his dying breath. The Queen never forgot him for as long as she lived."

A silence descended upon them as they both drank in the sad tale of the Ace of Diamonds. It seemed to last forever before being shattered by her asking, "Can we do the trick again?"

Her father smiled and answered, "Yes, of course." he picked up the deck from the side table and, after a quick shuffle, held them out to her again. She pulled one out and after memorizing the picture, she put it back in the pile. This time when the cards began to fly, Morlais was more interested in trying to figure out how her papa was doing it. As they stopped their movement, the only thing she had learned was that it made her dizzy watching them move so fast.

Her papa withdrew a card, set the deck aside again, and held it before her eyes already knowing that it was hers. She smiled at the Four of Spades. It was a simple card depicting a young merman with a golden tail and hair. His piercing green eyes stared up from the picture as he held onto his trident in a protective pose.

Morlais looked up at her father expectantly, "Does he have a story too, Papa?"

He looked at her knowingly, "Every card has a story Lacy. The Four of Spades, however, is an interesting one to hear. As always, it began with the Siren Queen, for you see, her father, the sailor, rescued the Four from a horrible death at sea, but died in the process of doing so," her father began. "The Queen, heart broken, could not make her way home after his burial. The Four, whom was thankful for his life and saddened for the Queens loss, escorted her back to her grand palace. When they reached the gates he kissed her upon her forehead and promised to serve her as faithfully as her father had served him and one day he hoped he could repay the debt that had been made."

Morlais sat for a few seconds absorbing the new information, and then, looking at her father, she asked, "Papa, are all the cards about death?"

Her papa laughed, "Life is about death Lacy. Understanding that will make the path easier to bare in the long run. Now, want to learn how to do the trick yourself?" Morlais, who had been staring down at her lap deep in thought, looked up with a spark of excitement in her eyes.

"Really?!" she asked eagerly, questions of death all but forgotten.

"Yes, really," he answered with a laugh. He picked up the deck of cards again and, placing them in her small hands, began slowly showing her how to throw them this way and that without losing any in the process.

_Three_: Morlais was now a grand age of six years old. She ran through her small house in stocking clad feet all the way to her parents bedroom where she threw open the old wooden door and took a flying leap into the middle of the big bed.

"Humph," was the first sound that came from her father as she landed on top of him. Her mother rolled over and groaned at the rude awakening.

"Mama! Papa! Guess what, guess what!" Morlais squealed. Her papa smiled up at her and said, "What?"

"You have to guess," she pouted. He laughed, "It wouldn't happen to be a certain someone's birthday would it?" he asked playfully.

"Couldn't be," his wife said playing along, "I specifically remember, my birthday was last month." Both began to laugh at the look on their daughters face and then pulled themselves into sitting positions.

"Come here birthday girl," her papa chuckled as he pick her up in a warm hug. "I have a new trick to show you," he told her as he got out of bed and set her down on the ground.

"You do?! Show me!" she demanded.

"What's the magic word?" her mama asked as she too slipped from the bed.

"Please?" she begged. Her papa smiled widely.

"Now, I need you to watch very closely." Morlais nodded her head to show that she understood. She watched as hard as she could, not blinking once, trying to make sure she didn't miss what he was about to do. He picked up a blanket from the bed and swirled it around himself, letting go at the last second. And then he was gone. The only thing left was the piled up blanket on the ground.

Morlais stared in shock for a full second and then ran to search the house for him. She found him a few minutes later in the living room, sitting in their favorite chair waiting for her.

"How'd you do that?" she asked as she climbed up into his lap. He winked at her.

"It's a secret, so you have to promise not tell."

"Okay, I promise," she exclaimed.

"Now, it all has to do with distraction," he started.

_Four_: She was seven and it was raining. The sky was dark even though it was afternoon. She stood next to a tall tree, dressed in her best black dress. She watched numbly as the big men walked past with the long, wooden makeshift casket.

Her papa was dead. They told her that it was a boating accident. They said that he died bravely, saving another boys life, but it made no difference to her. He was dead either way.

She watched silently, unable to move as the men pushed the casket into the water of the ocean. Even in her half dead state she could still tell that it was a dreadfully beautiful sight; her papa drifting away into the stormy sea. The lightning in the distance light up the sky in a salute to him and slowly he became nothing more then a speck upon the waves.

She didn't know when she started to cry, nor when she collapsed to the ground in despair. She didn't know when a golden haired, green eyed boy picked her up and carried her home to her mother who hadn't gotten out of bed since the day it had happened. She didn't know when he kissed her upon her brow as he left her asleep in her bed. She had a vague memory of it all, but she figured it was only a dream and nothing more. She only really knew that it was dark when her eyes flicked open and began to fill with tears as the weeks events crashed back in on her. She decided then and there that she didn't like reality. She would take the tricks and card games any day.

As the thought flitted through her mind, she jumped out of her bed and ran through the creaky hallway to the living room and her papa's chair. She clambered into it and reached for the box that held the deck of cards that were the last link she had to her father. Holding them in her small hands, Morlais knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that everything would be okay. It wasn't even a month later that she went to say goodbye to her mother on the same beach as her father.

_Five_: It was only a few weeks after her mothers death and Morlais was sitting on her new bed in the orphanage with her only possession, the deck of cards that was passed down to her by her papa. She was staring at the haunting image of the Queen of Hearts. The Queen was encased in a flaming dress of blues and dark grey feathers. Wings of intricate lace spanned from her shoulders and in her hands was a coal black bow with an elegant arrow notched and ready to fire. Morlais could almost hear her papa's voice telling her the story of the love that had lasted wars.

It had, for once, not started with the Siren Queen, but instead with the Two of Clubs. With his pale hair and sapphire eyes, he was shrouded in a cape of forest which, as his story went, he had painted himself to fade into the scenery around him. He had fallen madly in love with the Queen of Hearts, but had dared not tell her until her life came to depend on it.

Without his love it was possible she would have died, but for all she was worth, she hated him for saving her. And yet with the imminent treat to her family, she had married him and learned to love him as much as he loved her. As wars wagged around them and their world fell apart, they held onto that love and kept one another alive. Morlais had always thought it was a beautiful tale, one of the most lovely of all the cards.

"I wish someone could still love me that much," she whispered to herself as tears fell from her eyes. She missed her papa, but she knew she couldn't have him back.

As she cried for her dead parents, the Queen of Hearts was snatched from her hand by the grubby figures of twelve year old Ernie Lakk.

"Like anyone could do that," sneered Ernie in answer to her quiet wish. "What's this, another of your stupid cards?"

"Please, just give it back," Morlais begged. Ernie smirked cruelly at her and held up the card for his lackeys, Helen Sanmi and Forest Deston, to see. Both seemed to find something about it very funny, but Morlais couldn't figure out what it was.

"You want this card back?" he asked. She nodded her head. If anything his smile became even crueler as he waved the card in front of her face, just far enough away so she couldn't grab it.

He lowered his arm away from her and leaned in close, "Well to bad," he snarled at her. Then, in quick moments to fast for her to stop, he took the card in both hands and ripped it clean in half, before dropping it onto the floor and stomping on the pieces. The three pre-teens walked away laughing with Morlais's screams still fresh in their ears.

As they left Morlais crawled to the ground, sobbing, and picked up the two halves of the destroyed card of the Queen of Hearts. In some ways it was poetic justice, she though. The card had been ripped just like her heart and Ernie had stomped on it in a similar fashion to the way the world had stomped on her, discarding her when it was finished with it's fun.

_Six_: On the corner of Greene Street and Simpleton Avenue stood the young figure of a ten year old little girl dressed in a dirty, faded brown dress. Her stringy bronze hair lay limp around her dirt covered face. The only memorable thing about her, besides the filth, were the shining seaweed green eyes that seemed to draw the attention of passers by. This was Morlais and next to her feet was a small cap waiting hopefully for a few coins to sit within it's brim.

"Gather 'round, gather 'round!" she called out, "And I will show you the wonders of the Siren Queen." Morlais repeated the cry a few more times until she had a decent sized crowed surrounding her. She pulled out her deck of playing cards at this point and began the act that her father had taught her. That felt like ages ago to her weary soul.

The cards flew around her as she began to speak to the crowd, capturing them with her voice, "Many years ago the world was elements of fire, earth, air, and water with royalty to rule them. The most powerful of these royal figures was the Siren, the Queen of the sea," upon saying the name of the great figure, one card seemed to jump from her hands and magnify itself for the whole group to see. It was the image of the Spade Queen herself, larger then should be possible.

From there Morlais continued the story, weaving the threads expertly. She told of the Queens rocky rise to power, of her struggle between right and wrong. She described the slippery romance between the Queen and the King of Hearts, the lord of all fire. She depicted the Ace of Diamonds sacrifice and the Four of Spades promise.

The mesmerized crowd, had, by the end, doubled in size and she had a decent sized pile of money in the hat by her feat. Later, as Morlais counted her earnings, she realized that she wasn't quite sure where all of it had come from. The crowd had not been large enough, but she brushed the concern away for later. Instead, as she continued her counting, she smiled to herself, aware that her papa would be proud.

_Seven_: As she ran through the crowded streets, she dodged every which way to avoid being trampled by the oncoming crowed. She couldn't let them catch her. She didn't know what the academy kids would do to her, but she didn't want to find out.

She was now a grand age of eleven years old and she was quite well known for her street corner stories. Every market day she stood at the same corner, and every time she told a new story and showed new magic tricks. They weren't always about the cards either. Sometimes she would tell stories her mother had told her. They were what her mama had called fairy tales. Some of her favorites were the ones like the Little Cinder Girl or the Little Mermaid. Other times she would play tricks she had created by herself, such as the time she had what appeared to be a living tree in the middle of the street and had climbed it to tell her days story. When the story was over both she and the tree had disappeared, leaving a very confused crowed behind. After the shows, she would always count the coins and she would always find an absurd amount. She didn't know where it was coming from, but she was thankful for it, as were the rest of the orphaned children that the money helped to feed and cloth.

Today was no different. She had set up station in front of the street sign and even before she had begun speaking a crowd had surrounded her. It wasn't until the end when Morlais had noticed a group of teenagers making their way towards her. She had sensed danger before they had even reached her, but she hadn't let it show. Instead she had stood her ground and that's when the trouble had started.

They had begun to make fun of the 'poor little orphan girl'. When she didn't respond the oldest of the group had slapped her hard across the face. As she had fallen to the ground, she knew she had to make a get away. She twisted around, swirling her thin winter cape about her and then ran. All they saw was a empty piece of cloth crumpled in the dirt.

So here she was, dodging the obstacles in her path, flitting from one place to another as quickly as she could to try and loose the wolf pack on her heels. It hadn't taken them long to catch her trail once she had fled.

Up ahead of her she saw one of them running towards her from the front, she slowed and tried to switch directions, but as she did she was grabbed by her arm and dragged down an ally way by a dark figure she couldn't see.

"Thought you could make a fool of us did you?" an angry voice spat in her face as she was pressed hard against a cold wall. In the background she could hear the jeers of the others that had chased her.

"Naw," she gurgled out as best she could with his large hands trying to choke her, "Ya seem ta b' do'n a goo' ja' by you'selves." She knew she shouldn't antagonize him, he was an academy trainee. Her spent every day of his life preparing for to volunteer for the Hunger Games, but she had a feeling it was going to end the same either way. So she might as well get it out of her system while she could.

"You little whore," the boy growled at her before shoving her away from him to another behind them. "Tie her up. This bitch needs a lesson in manners. Janice the whip."

A boy no older then herself, dragged her over to a side of the ally and fumbled with the rope he was using to tie her to a pipe. "Please," she begged as their eyes meet. She was trembling with thinly veiled fear. She didn't want to die, but it didn't seem like she had much of a choice at this point.

"Help me." He averted his gaze from her and kept his mouth shut as he finished the knot. She was trapped. No tricks up her sleeve this time to save her. As tears threatened to fall down her face she made a silent promise to herself. She wouldn't let them break her. Not ever.

As the whip made it's first strike against her back she had to fight not to scream. She couldn't help the whimper that escaped her throat though, nor the water from her eyes that quickly betrayed her as they fell to the ground. The second hit was worst as it sliced over the first wound, but still she didn't scream. They whipped her again and again until heavy footsteps came running towards them.

With a last glance backwards at her bloodied form, the leader of the group grabbed the arms of two of his fellows and made a break for it. Her vision was flickering by this point and the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was bright green eyes looking down at her with a sick and worried expression.

Later when she woke up in her bed at the orphanage with a thick bandage around her torso, she wondered who it had been that had rescued her. Who ever it was, she had them to thank for her life. She just wished she could tell them, but all she had to identify the person was a short letter saying,

_"Get better soon, my Queen. _

_~ The Four of Spades" _

_Eight_: Weston Quinn and Dolly Zelqra sat on Morlais's bed, curled into her sides. Ernie and his cronies had been at it again. She wasn't sure how they had decided that three seventeen year old's was a fair fight against two six year old's and she didn't care. She was more concerned with the hurt and scared children that had come to her for help.

"Weston," Morlais said in her best motherly voice, "let me see your wrist."

The little boy turned his tear stained face up towards hers. When he received a comforting smile, he lifted his left hand to show her his obviously broken wrist. There was no way it could be at that angle and not be broken.

Morlais sucked in a breath. She knew what she had to do, but she wouldn't like doing it. To try and distract him, she flicked out one of her playing cards, the Nine of Spades.

"See this card," she asked him. He nodded just like she used to do for her papa. "This is the brave little solder, the Nine of Spades. He's the Mercury Prince you know. He looks just like you doesn't he," she said for he did indeed look like an exact replica of the little boy in her arms. His perfectly cropped black locks hung into his small face and he seemed to glow with a hidden light the shone behind him. His eyes gleamed silver to reflect his name.

Morlais could feel Dolly twisting to get a better look at the card. Smiling down at her, Morlais pulled out another, this one depicting a petite girl with sand colored tresses that fell to her knees in a single braid. Her dress of pure white and bright blue feathers flowed out around her seeming to have been caught in the wind.

"And this is his sister the ever beautiful Nine of Diamonds. I like to call her the Bluebird." Dolly grinned as she stared at the picture that could have been her if only she was a few years older.

"These two are very important to the Siren Queen. They are her adopted siblings and she loves them very much. However, to be her siblings they need to hold courage in themselves to face the dangers that she does. If you want to be like them, you're going to have to be brave. Can you two do that for me?" Both Weston and Dolly stared up at Morlais captivated and nodded their heads in agreement.

"Good," Morlais said decisively as she made the cards disappear, "Then little Mercury Prince, I'm going to need you to put this piece of wood in your mouth." She handed him a stick that she had kept for just such occasions. He gave her an odd look, but did as she said.

"Now, this is going to hurt a little, so you'll have to be brave, but it'll be over soon. Trust me." Morlais took his hand in hers before another word could be said and with a quick twist, set it back in place. As she did so, she could see Weston bite down hard on the wood as he withheld a scream. He then burrowed his head in her side and began to cry. She felt horrible about causing him pain, but it had to be done. She then set about splinting his wrist while murmuring words of encouragement in his ear.

_Nine_: She was running again.

After years of being chased by them she had finally learned their names. The leader of the group that had whipped her the first time, was Shay Thanton, the mayor's son. She'd never forgive him for the scars that now laced her body.

His right hand man so to speak was a girl by the name of Janice Felton. With them, there was always a tag along in Harper Greene. Morlais had decide that despite everything the Thanton had done to her, she hated Harper the most. Even more then she hated the boy that always saved his own skin and held her down for the others to torture. Dilan Cresta was a cowered and that's all he'd ever be to her, but at least he didn't seem to get sick pleasure out of trying to get her to scream without success.

Harper Greene on the other hand was a different story. She was completely insane. No normal person would do the things she did. Every time the group chased Morlais, Harper would be the one to go over board so to speak. She was the main tormentor of them all.

There were more in the group then just those four, but they were always different from day to day. The only other person that she could always count on was her guardian angle, the Four of Spades. She still didn't know who he was, and he didn't always get there in time, but he always came and he always left a letter of some sort to let her know he was still there. She had folded up each one and placed them in a small box she had bought from a stall. She just wished he had made an appearance today, but she couldn't blame him. She hadn't exactly given him time.

Thanton wasn't happy with her, but seriously it was a complete accident and after all the cuts and scrapes he had given her, one lost hand hardly tipped the scale. How was she supposed to know that a single thrown card could cut threw skin, muscle, and bone. And it wasn't like he hadn't just tried to rape her.

As she ran through the crowded streets she laughed manically at the realization that she had finally broken their hold over her. Never again would she be afraid of any of them, not when her deck of cards was glued to her side. Now she just had to perfect the art of card fighting. It shouldn't be to hard. She had been using the cards for as long as she could remember and she was fourteen now. Hopefully her Four of Spades didn't mind that she had found a way to replace him.

Later, after she had reached the safety of the orphanage, she stood in front of her bed and practiced as if her life depended upon it, for in a way, it did. It wasn't until she finished that she noticed the piece of paper laying on her bed. Picking it up, she unfolded it and read the note inside,

_"Good one. Not sure how Thanton lost a hand, but something tells me it wasn't the vicious shark that he's claiming attacked him._

_You'll have to watch your back extra carefully from now on though. He's not exactly happy that his chance at the Hunger Games just went out the window._

_~ The Four of Spades"_

_Ten:_ She sat before the old screen of the TV watching as the Tribute, or should she say Victor, of the 75th Hunger Games, stood in the middle of his killing ground. He would be famous from this moment onward, and not just because he was a Victor. He was responsible for the death of all twenty-three of the other tributes. It had never been done before, but she was sure others would try to match his record now.

Gale Hawthorne stood staring at the destruction he had caused. If Morlais didn't know any better she'd say he was frozen in shock. It was almost as if he hadn't expected to win.

'_That's silly,_' she told herself, _'He probably just wasn't expecting to ever get the chance to be in the Games.'_ It had thrown everyone for a spin when the capitol had announced that the tribute pool for the Quarter Quell would be pulled from 19 to 26 year old's.

When the names were pulled, the announcers of the Games had had a field day over the District 12 male tribute. He was the cousin of one of the Victors of the previous year, Katniss Everdeen, or would that be Katniss Mellark as her wedding had been just before the games. Everyone was expecting great things from him. But when the games had started everyone except those in the Capitol were highly disappointed.

She knew that all the normal people in her district were disturbed by what they witnessed him do. None of the others even stood a chance the moment they had entered the arena. He captured them all with different traps and usually they were set as if to catch a wild animal.

The first tributes he captured were the careers. That was in the first few seconds. Once they were out of the way, he went hunting. The whole thing lasted just under two days. It was the quickest victory in the history of the games.

"Morlais?" a soft voice said from her side. Morlais jerked her head to look down at Weston who was sitting next to her.

"Yes?"

"Why do you think he did it?" Morlais looked back at the screen to see Gale Hawthorne being pulled away towards the hover craft.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.

"Maybe he did it out of habit, kind of like you with the cards," Dolly suggested from her other side.

"Or maybe he's just that messed up," Sammie, who was sitting in Morlais's lap, added with a scrunched up nose.

"Maybe," Morlais said to all and none at the same time.

* * *

As the last memory faded, Morlais flick her eyes open now completely calm. She let a smirk fall into place. She could do this. All she needed was a deck of cards and maybe a cape, but she could win this thing.

If Harper was just a little bit smarter she'd realize that Morlais was probably the most capable for the job, but that wasn't likely to happen. It had been four years since she had taken off Shay Thanton's hand with a single playing card and although it had been a fluke, she could still do a lot of damage. That didn't mean it computed in Harper's head though. And sure enough, when Hester called for female volunteers no hand was raised; no voice called out.

Hester then moved on to the male tribute, fishing around the bowl for a slip of paper. The whole time Morlais pretended to be indifferent, but in reality she was back to praying for Weston. Luck didn't seem to be in her favor though, because when the name was called her heart stopped and her face flashed with panic.

"Weston Quinn."

'Of all people why did it have to be him?' she thought to herself. He could not die. She wouldn't let him. He was her little Mercury Prince, the Nine of Spades. And he was only twelve.

She watched terrified as Weston climbed the steps of the stage with Peacekeepers at his back. He was trying to be brave, just as she had taught him to be, but Morlais could see the quiver of his bottom lip and when their eyes meet he ditched his act and ran to her. She unfroze as she knelt down and scooped him into her arms, letting him cry on her shoulder.

"Shhhh. It's okay," Morlais told him quietly as she stroked his hair. She could see Hester's baffled expression as she held the crying boy, but Morlais ignored her. Instead, she pulled Weston away and looked him in the eye, "I won't let anything happen to you. Promise." He wiped his wet face and nodded in understanding. He would be okay if Morlais said he would.

"But what about you?" he asked. Morlais gave him a sad smile as she pulled him back in for another hug.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be okay." Just as she finished uttering the words, the unexpected happened.

"I volunteer as tribute," called a voice from the crowd. Morlais snapped her head upwards and met the eyes of the one person she would never have though capable of doing such a thing.

The crowd parted as Dilan Cresta stepped forward and began walking towards the stage. Morlais was unable to hid her surprise, nor her confusion as he mounted the steps, but she was thankful none the less. She watched in shock as he stepped next to Hester and began to introduce himself to the audience. She couldn't believe what was happening. She tore her eyes away form Dilan with some difficulty and looked back down at Weston.

"Weston, you need to go," Morlais told him, "Find Dolly and the others, then take them all home. Don't come to say goodbye, it would be to hard on the little ones." She pulled out her deck of cards she had gotten from her father, "Here, take this. You know how to use them," when he tried to refuse she said, "Don't worry about me, I have an extra set for emergencies." He nodded tearfully and, with one last glance at her, ran down the steps to follow orders.

Morlais stood up and faced the crowd again just as Hester began to say,

"Tributes shake hands,"

Morlais looked over at Dilan. He looked like an ice sculpture, he was so stiff. He didn't seem like he was going to make the first move, so Morlais glided over to him and held out her hand. He took it in his and they shook firmly.

"Happy 76th Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor," Morlais said loudly in a fake Capitol accent for the whole audience to hear. She then dropped the hand hold and escorted herself into the Justice Building behind them.

_AN: Well, that's all folks... Hope you all enjoyed it. I'll try to have another chapter up soon, but I'll have you know, it took me a week to write this over Thanksgiving break. I'm not sure how long it'll take with school returning with a vengeance tomorrow 'morn. I don't think my teachers would be to happy if I completely ignore them to write a fanfiction instead. Oh, just so you all know, I have no clue if any of the card tricks are actually possible, but for the sake of the story we're saying they are. Got it? Good. And if I didn't make this clear at the beginning, I don't own Hunger Games._

_Sincerely, _

_Pen_


	2. Chapter 2 The Train

_AN: Dear readers, I think I'm still in shock from actually having people follow, favorite, and review on my story. I don't think the shock will ever completely go away. To Ugheunice, Thank you. I do try. Also, I'm glade you like the plot. I was worried that it would be to... different, though I don't think that's the right word to describe it, from the other stories in the Hunger Games archive. I don't believe that I've ever, in all my time of reading fanfiction, come across a story quite like the craziness below, but then again, maybe they just escaped my notice._

_Anyway, Happy reading. And may the words be ever in your favor._

Chapter Two ~ The Train

"Goodbye," Morlais whispered as she pressed her face to the cool glass of the window, watching District 4 disappear from view. She wasn't quite sure how she was feeling. Shock had begun to set in as she had bordered the train. She knew when the numbness wore off she'd realize how much she missed her little ones and all their craziness, but right now she could only stare as her world drifted away.

A sad smile passed over her face as she began to try to imagine what each orphan was doing right then. Weston was probably trying to figure out how to run the street corner show. He had been her protégée since he was very young and could do all the tricks almost as well as she could, but Morlais knew that he'd be worried that he'd mess up some how.

Dolly would be mothering the younger ones, trying to fill in the gape that Morlais had left behind. The others would almost certainly try to resist, but that wouldn't deter her. She'd make sure they all took their baths and ate their greens.

Sammie would be consoling the others while trying not to cry herself. She was the most sensitive and emotional of them all, making it ironic that she'd be the one trying to comfort.

The monstrous trio would no doubt be drowning their sorrows in as much chaos as possible. Kyle, Georgie, and Fadora, or Dora as she liked to be called, where each menaces in their own right, but together they were a walking disaster. At seven years old, they had learned a good majority of Morlais's acts, though none of them were as good as her or Weston. Unlike Weston though, who just liked to learn, they preferred to take the knowledge gained and play pranks on all who stood in their paths.

The youngest two probably wouldn't even realize something was wrong until very late that night when Morlais didn't show up for their bed time story. Asa was three and Katie was two. She just hoped that Sammie and Dolly would be able to take care of them.

"Standing at the window is not going to do much, you know," Morlais jerked in surprise as she was pulled from her thoughts and whirled around to face the pale blue eyes of Dilan Cresta. He was only inches from her face, giving her a vivid reminder of the first time they had been at such close proximity.

"Well, you'd know so much about watching, wouldn't you," she snapped with an glare. He may have saved Weston's innocents and her life, but that didn't mean he had a clean slate in her books. There were to many years of bad blood between them for that and if there was one thing Morlais Bríd knew, besides card fighting that is, it was how to hold a grudge.

It had been a long time since he had actively held her down for others to beat up. Now that she thought of it, he had been absent from the group ever since she chopped off Thanton's hand all those years ago. But she would never forget and she would never forgive.

The faint smile that had been on his handsome face was instantly wiped away; in it's place was a blank expression. He seemed to know exactly what she was referring to.

"You wouldn't accept an apology if it was given, would you?" He said it as if it was a question, but Morlais could tell by the poorly hidden look in his eyes that they both knew it was a statement of fact.

"No, I wouldn't," she answered shortly before turning to look back out the window.

"Then I won't bother giving one." And then he was gone, almost as if he had never been there. But he had been there, leaving her even more confused and irritated then she had been before.

She didn't get it. What did he gain by volunteering. Sure, there was the temptation of endless riches and fame, but after what had happened to his sister, Annie Cresta, during her time in the arena, Morlais would have thought that he would want to stay clear of the games for her sake if not his own. And what was with the 'non-given' apology. He couldn't have just let her hate him in peace?

In her mind, Dilan Cresta had always been a synonym for coward, just as Harper Greene had always been for bitch, and jerk always fit in at the similar words category. But now, in the span of a day, that was all crumpling. Not the Harper part; she was still pure evil. It was the Dilan half that Morlais was no longer certain about. No matter what his reason was, cowards didn't volunteer and jerks didn't offer apologies even if technically he hadn't given one.

_'What is he playing at,'_ Morlais thought to herself. And that's when it clicked.

Playing.

That was it.

This was after all a game, be it a morbid one, but a game non the less. Dilan Cresta was just twisting it to his own tune. He was trying to set his cards up just right so that when the time came he had the winning hand. She still didn't know why he had volunteered, but now, with her conclusion, everything else was starting to add up. He was trying to gain her sympathy to make her let her guard down. That was all there was to it and she wasn't going to fall for it.

Having come to a resolution, Morlais looked around the room for the first time since she had bordered the train. It was so alien. From the ceiling to the floor, everything was different from the life she was used to. A chandelier of crystal hung in the air. If she had a guess, all the money in District 4, not including Victor's Village, couldn't even pay for a single tier of it.

The plush rug that adorned the polished floor was made of a material that Morlais had never seen. For a moment she was tempted to kneel down and run her hands through it to see if it felt as soft as it looked, but she refrained from doing so.

A split second later she was glade she had as a door opened to her left and Mags, a previous victor of the Hunger Games and one of the mentors, stuck her head in to motion that dinner was ready. Morlais gave one last fleeting glance at the window before following behind her. For some reason it felt like leaving the room was really saying goodbye. And not like the 'I'll see you tomorrow' goodbye either; it was more of a 'I'm not coming back' goodbye.

Instead of dwelling on a subject that Morlais was beginning to find depressing, she turned her attention to the old lady leading her to the food. Morlais wondered if she'd mind answering a few questions. She was, after all, supposed to be giving advise to the tributes. Morlais figured that it couldn't hurt to ask, so she cleared her throat and said, "Um... Excuse me. Miss. Mags,"

Mags pulled up short and looked at her in surprise before shaking her head and muttering something that Morlais couldn't hear.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Morlais asked in polite confusion. Mags beckoned her forwards and when her mouth was practically at Morlais's ear, she whispered in a raspy voice, "It's just Mags. No need for formalities dear."

"Uhh, okay. Mags," Morlais began, feeling slightly odd with Mags still at her ear. "I was wondering if you could tell me how you won the Games." Morlais wasn't sure as she wasn't able to see Mags face, but she was almost certain Mags was grimacing.

"Back then, it was only the 10th Hunger Games. There were no Careers yet. It would be another seven to ten years before they showed up. As always there was twenty-four of us and only one left. The rest I have no words for," she said before releasing Morlais and drawing back.

That hadn't been what Morlais was hoping to get, but she'd just have to deal with it because Mags was already at the other side of the hall holding the door open, gesturing for Morlais to follow.

"That is one fast old lady," Morlais grumbled to herself quietly.

* * *

"No, we will be mentored separately," Morlais said with conviction. She had just finished eating the most amazing meal of her life. She wasn't sure what any of it was, but one thing was certain, she was in love. She could eat this food for the rest of her life and never get tired of it.

Eating had put her in such a good mood that she had even smiled at Dilan when she had asked him to pass the circular green things in the pink bowl. When she had, he became too shock to do anything but stare, so Hester Falon ended up handing them to her instead.

It was unfortunate, but as everyone knows, all good things must come to an end.

As she put aside her last dish of excellent food, Finnick Odair, the other mentor of District 4 and a complete player, began to speak, ruining her wonderful mood.

"Do you two want to be mentored separately or together?" he asked, seeming to pierce her with his bright green eyes. Morlais was more then slightly disturbed when she shifted and caught Hester practically drooling over him. Granted he was good looking, but he never stayed with a girl longer then a week and to Morlais that was an absolute turn off. Not to mention that Hester had to be twice his age.

Morlais opened her mouth to answer with a negative when Dilan spoke, saying, "I don't see a problem with being mentored together." He looked over at her waiting for her say in the matter.

And that's how the argument started, with his agreement and her refusal. She knew from the moment he had opened his mouth that this was somehow part of his plan. He was probably hoping that by being mentored together, she'd warm up to him, but she wouldn't let it happen.

As she said no for what felt like the hundredth time, he rolled his eyes and replied, "Why bother being separated. It creates more work for them and it's not like either of us have anything to hid from the other. Everyone at the Academy knows what really happened to Thanton's hand." If glares could kill, he would have been dead multiple times throughout that speech. She could see the logic in his statement, but she was to stubborn to back down now.

"I still say no. I'm not working with you," she snapped.

"Who said anything about working with me. All you have to do is sit in the same room as me while they," he pointed to Mags and Finnick, "give us advice." Grinding her teeth she turned her back to him, indicating that he had won the argument, but she wasn't happy about it. She felt disgusted with herself for letting him win, but she had to admit that what he was saying made sense. That didn't mean that she'd let him butter her up though. She was not letting her guard down. Not. At. All.

"So," Finnick broke in, having concluded that they were done bickering, "either of you have any strengths that might help in the arena?" Morlais twisted in her seat so she was facing the rest of the table again. His curious expression did nothing to make her feel better about the situation.

"I can fight decently with a deck of cards," came her bland reply. She could hear Dilan snort and mutter something about 'understatement of the year' under his breath, but she ignored him. Finnick, on the other hand, gave her an odd look that, if she was interpreting correctly, said _'What the hell is this girl talking about'_. Then he broke down laughing so hard he nearly fell from his chair. Mags only smiled and Hester was to busy salivating over Finnick to notice anything but him.

Morlais tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling. _'Why does no one ever believe me?'_ she wondered to herself. She remembered one time, back when she was fifteen, when a elderly teacher at the regular school had gone around the room asking students what they'd do in the face of the Hunger Games. Morlais had answered straight away that she'd take a deck of cards with her. The teacher had not been amused in the slightest.

It took a full five minutes for Finnick to get himself back under control. When he had, he brushed his golden hair from his eyes and stared at her with humor.

_'At least he's not pulling out a ruler like that teacher did,'_ Morlais thought.

"Okay, joking aside, what's a real strength of yours?" Morlais raised an eyebrow and propped her left elbow on the table. She grinned evilly at him as she flicked her wrist and suddenly had seven of her spare playing cards in her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dilan scooting his chair away from her slowly. It made her want to cackle madly, but she forced the urge down and kept her smiling demeanor.

"Where did you get those," he asked, "I could have sworn that you handed your deck to that little boy." Morlais glanced at him with disdain before relying simply, "It's my extra deck." Anyone with any sense could hear the 'idiot' implied at the end.

"You do know that they don't let dangerous weapons in as tokens, right." Finnick was glancing between them back and forth as they spoke, his odd expression returned to its former place.

"Wait, wait, wait. You two can't be serious! You aren't actually suggesting that she," he pointed to Morlais, "can make those cards lethal, are you?" Dilan looked at Morlais expectantly, knowing that she wouldn't have brought them out if she wasn't planing on doing something crazy.

As if taking his look as a silent que, Morlais began to throw the seven cards through the air around her. They flew in beautiful patterns about her head, twirling here and there, always landing in her outstretched hand. When Finnick's patience began to thin to the point of reaching out to try to snatch the cards away from her, she struck. The next thing Finnick knew, he was pinned to the wall with nothing but playing cards to hold him down, listening to the laughter of both of the tributes and one screaming escort.

"The look," gasp, "on his face," gasp, "Priceless," Dilan stated as he chocked on air. He was clutching his side from laughing so hard. For a moment, Morlais forgot that she was supposed to hate him and she began to nod her agreement. But then she remembered and when she did she pulled herself together and threw a glare in his direction causing him to stop mid laugh.

_'Pull yourself together,'_ she told herself,_ 'He is the enemy. You can not let him draw you in.'_ She then got up and made her way towards the struggling form of Finnick Odair. His arms were loose as she had only pined his legs, chest, and shoulders, and he was yanking on one of the cards with little success. She giggle quietly. She hadn't meant to throw them so hard, but it seems as if she had forgotten her own strength. Although, now that she thought about it, it might have been due to the material the cards were made out of. Her extra deck was made of some type of wood.

"And here I'd have thought you'd like being dominated," she told him silkily as glided up to him. He scowled at her as she began to rip the cards from their position, not seeming to notice how deeply embedded they were in the wood. When she went to extract the card stuck in between his legs, he winced.

"I'll take that as a no then. Just be thankful that I didn't aim that card higher otherwise your womanizing days would be over." She snickered to herself as he fell to the ground when the last card was removed from above his right shoulder. She figured she'd try to be nice and help him up, but he glared at her figures suspiciously and pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the friendly gesture.

_'Oh well,'_ she thought with a shrug, _'I probably deserved that.'_ Both of them returned to their seats at the table, one laughing quietly and the other trying to regain his dignity.

"Completely uncalled for," Hester was saying in her high pitched voice as Finnick and Morlais sat down, "Don't know what you thought you were doing. You could have seriously hurt him." She tried to give Morlais and evil look, but it was ruined by her outrageous makeup and toppling wig of blue.

"Keep your hair on," Morlais said causing the rest of the table to snort, "I wouldn't have actually hurt him. That would completely destroy all chances I have of winning the Games. Think of all the poor women that would be deprived of his presents if I killed him. I'd never get any sponsors if all of them were mad at me." Finnick looked daggers at her as he suddenly became the butt of her joke.

"At least we don't have to think to hard about what angle you'll be playing when Interviews come around," he began, "Whimsical and crazy with a dash of bitchiness." Morlais beamed at him.

"Why, thank you. I worked so hard for those kind words," she said as sincerely as she could, which may have been overkill if the looks on everyones face was an indicator. Finnick shock his head in exasperation and turned his attention to Dilan.

"So, we know her strength, but what's yours?"

"Probably a broad sword. I can handle myself with knives, and javelins and the like, but I'm best with the sword," he answered simply. This was news for Morlais. For some reason, she had always thought that he couldn't do anything in the fighting department, but she guessed that was an idiotic thing to assume as he had attended the Academy since he was who knows how old.

"Nothing as bizarre as Morlais though. She could probably kill me in a second from a mile away if she wished to," Dilan continued.

Morlais grinned and said, "Knowing that will save your life - at least for a little while." She clapped her hands, "Now, when are the recaps being played?"

With that, the group relocated to another compartment, which turned out to be the room where Morlais had been earlier that afternoon, and turned on the TV to watch the other District reaping's. Only a few of the twenty-two others caught Morlais' attention: the boy from District 2 looked like he could tear people apart with his bare hands, the girl from 3 had a maniacal look in her eye as she darted forward to volunteer, the girl from 7 made Morlais wary, but when the male from 7 volunteered, which was practically unheard of from an outlying District, she knew he was the real one to watch.

None of the others really made her glance twice until they reached District 12. Both tributes could only be twelve years old. Flora Delly, made Morlais think of Dolly, Sammie, Dora, and even Katie. Rhett Wilson, was the one that really pulled her up short though.

He looked so much like Weston that it was scary. Watching him walk up to the stage was heart wrenching because she could tell that no one was going to volunteer for him like Dilan had for Weston. He would have to fight to the death if he ever wanted to go home.

When the recaps were over, Finnick, who was sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair, glanced at the Morlais and Dilan and asked, "Any ideas on who you two would like to ally with. You don't have to decide now, but you both should start trying to figure it out quickly."

As soon as the question was asked, Dilan began naming who he thought would be best, but when the question was directed at Morlais, she just shrugged her shoulders. She didn't really want allies. Alliances would eventually have to be broken and one of them would have to die. She had seen it happen year after year in the Games, but Finnick was giving her that look that said she didn't really have a choice.

"What about the District 12 tributes then," Morlais said in exasperation as he glowered at her. She could see Dilan rolling his eyes as she continued, "The past few years they've done pretty well for themselves. I mean, they've had three Victors in a row. And at least those two don't look like they'd just love to kill me." If there had been a brick wall in the vicinity, Morlais was positive Finnick would be there banging his head against it as she spoke.

"Or," Morlais said, "I could just go solo. It's not like it would be that hard for me."

"You know what, we'll just discuss this tomorrow over breakfast. How about that?"

"My answer will still be the same," replied Morlais to Finnick's irritation. And, just as she predicted, the argument in the morning was almost exactly the one they had had the night before.

_AN: And that is all I have for today. This chapter actually came quicker then I expected. I was anticipating about two weeks not three days, especially when I was at school the majority of it. Also, I'm not sure how long the next chapter will take. Just know that I have a lot of school work to do in a short amount of time. _

_Sincerely,_

_ Pen_


	3. Chapter 3 The Chariots

_A.N. Dear readers,_

_Salutations. I'm back. My apologies for the month long leave of absence. As I said at the end of the last chapter, I had a lot of homework to do and then when that horror was over, I had christmas vacation and that fellow fanfiction addicts was a right disaster. Anyway, hope you all like this installment. It took me forever to write it the way it is and even now I'm not sure if I like it completely. There's still those parts that I cringe at and think, 'I don't like how I wrote that." Oh, well, I'm sure it's not as bad as I keep thinking it is. Also, thanks to those that reviewed and to those asking about where the story's going to lead, I will only say this, the cards know all. And without further adieu. _

**Chapter Three ~ The Chariots**

Pain.

It was the only thing the Morlais was truly aware of as the prep team attempted to 'beautify' her. She wondered briefly if looking nice was defined by pain, but the thought was quickly forgotten when another long strip of hair was ripped off her leg.

_'At least this isn't as bad as some of the things I've been through,'_ Morlais thought. She was very grateful for the fact, but she would have prefered to skip the Remake portion of the Games if at all possible. Although, quite honestly, if she was allowed to skip a portion she'd just ditch the whole thing.

"Now dear, we need you to lie flat on this table. Can you do that?" the purple little man asked. Morlais scowled at him. The tone in his voice suggested that he was talking to five year old instead of the eighteen years that she actually was. She wanted to scream at him that she didn't take orders from non-humans, but she feared that if she did, he and the others would take it as the insult that it was and make it their goal to make her so ugly that no one would sponsor her.

Sponsors would save or destroy her life in the coming weeks. She couldn't afford to irritate them in any way, shape, or form and that included how she looked.

Morlais sighed. That meant she actually had to be nice to these freaks dancing around her naked form. She would have felt exposed about her nudity if they were normal, but seeing as Thing 2, now destroying her eyebrows, was covered in feathers and had some weird extra skin hanging from it's chin (which looked suspiciously like a waddle now that she thought about it), she found that she really wasn't bothered.

She nearly died laughing when her prep team first caught a good look at her back though. It was as if they had never seen scars before. For the next fifteen minutes after they had seen the mutilation of her skin, they fretted about how to cover such hideousness in the little amount of time they had. Finally, in the end, they decided that letting the scars show would make the audience, and future sponsors, see that she was a fighter. Basically, they realized that there was nothing they could do.

"So…" Morlais began. If she wanted them to make her look stunning, she figured she had better start warming them up to the 'alien being' as they kept referring to her. "What's your guys names?" The purple man froze in his task of washing her bare arms. It seemed as if he wasn't used to being spoken to directly by the tribute he was working on.

"Oh, I'm Nelkra," he said in his Capitol accented voice, "and that over there," he pointed towards the over grown bird, "is Q-ray. Yuleen is the one working on your feet." Morlais tilted her head to the side to get a good look at Thing 3. From the name, she would think that it was a female, but she couldn't really tell through all the tentacles.

"Nice to meet you," Morlais said, making sure that the sarcasm only dripped in her mind. She must have succeeded because the purple man, or Thing 1 as she was now calling him in her head, beamed at her and then turned his attention back to her body.

"Now, when we're finished with you, you will be absolutely beautiful," Morlais cringed inwardly. She was worried that her idea of beautiful and Thing 1's idea were two completely different things. The man was purple for heaven's sake.

"And then we'll hand you off to Senta, your main Stylist," he continued as he drifted up to her face to put some odd goo on her cheeks.

"And was Senta the Stylist for the past few years?" Morlais was hoping that she, or he, wasn't because the past few years District 4 tributes had all been dressed as fish in the opening ceremony. And they were not attractive fish either.

"Oh, dear no," Thing 1 gasped exaggeratedly, "Axcel, bless him, had to say goodbye after last year." All the Things paused in their work to wipe away the tears that had formed in their eyes.

"He wanted to test his abilities in a new field of work," Thing 2 added after he/she pulled itself together. Oddly enough as it spoke, Morlais was distinctly reminded of the clucking sound chickens made, but that might have been her imagination.

"And now we have Senta. She's completely new. I just hope that she doesn't make some hideousness like Gaga did in the 69th games." If Morlais wasn't keeping a lock on her lips she might have mentioned that the costumes made that year for District 4 were some of the most decent in the history of the Hunger Games. As it was, it was probably best that she said nothing since the reactions of the Things were so horrified.

They continued on like that for what felt like decades, Morlais asking questions with fake politeness and the Things answering with so much enthusiasm that Morlais wanted to sew their mouths shut. She was so thankful when it finally all over that she didn't even mind their abrupt departure.

After they left, Morlais just laid there waiting for the next horror to begin. She was nervous about meeting her stylist. Even though the likelihood of being dressed as an ugly fish was now slim, Morlais worried that she was trading one fire for another. What if this 'Senta' dressed her like an octopus, similar to Thing 3. Now that would be a nightmare. Morlais would take the ugly fish any day if that was her other option.

"Hullo," said a soft, accented voice from Morlais' left. Morlais swung her legs off the table and sat up to face the source of the sound. There in the doorway was the strangest person she had ever seen.

The lady's hair, for it was definitely a female, hung in waves of ocean blue. Her skin was a dark brown color that reminded Morlais of the cofe her father used to have on occasions. Silvery blue was painted in swirls around soft, blue eyes. What startled Morlais the most about her was how normal she seemed compared to some of the craziness that she had seen on other people. She didn't have tentacles, or waddles. Besides the dyed hair and face paint, Morlais would have thought she was from one of the Districts.

"I'm Senta," the lady said as she held out a delicate hand, "Your stylist."

Morlais stared at the outstretched fingers warily. She was almost expecting Senta to disappear and be replaced with some grotesque being. That would be normal when visiting the Capitol. But, after a few minutes of awkward silence, it became apparent that Senta wasn't going anywhere, so Morlais gingerly took the hand and shook firmly.

"Nice to meet you," she mumbled. Senta bobbed her head in acknowledgement as she dropped Morlais' hand and turned to the side to open a door that Morlais hadn't noticed before.

"Come, come. Put on the robe by your feet and we'll have some food to hold us over," Senta said causing Morlais to glance at the ground and see that there was indeed a robe that she could place over herself to try and preserve some decency.

Picking it up, Morlais marveled at the smoothness of the fabric. It felt like water was running through her fingers instead of cloth. She draped it over her shoulders and jumped off the table to follow the waiting form of her stylist.

"So," Morlais began, trying to think of something to say as they walked together into the dining room, "Um... how are you?" Senta gave her a sidelong glance.

"I am good," she replied slowly, sitting down in a chair, "and you?" Morlais stood awkwardly at the side of the short table as she replied, "Oh, I'm... good." Senta laughed.

"Really? If I were you, I'd be terrible."

"What?" Morlais asked in confusion.

"Well, you're in the Hunger Games, are you not? In barely a week you'll be fighting to the death in this years arena." Senta picked up an orange piece of food from the table and examined it before glancing back up at Morlais and saying, "If I were you, I'd be terrible." She then popped the orange thing into her mouth and closed her eyes in enjoyment.

"Now sit, I can't have my tribute skipping meals," Senta said when she opened her eyes again. Morlais glanced around the room and located a chair to sit in. As she sank down into it the words left her mouth before she could stop them.

"Why do you look so… normal?" Senta looked at her in surprise, stopping in mid-bit of her weird looking sandwich.

"Normal?" She asked after swallowing. Morlais flushed in embarrassment but continuing, saying, "Well, yea. You don't have any tentacles or, or, chicken feathers, or, anything like that." Senta's laugh reminded Morlais of the wind chimes that hung in a few of the houses in District 4; it was light and musical.

"So, you didn't like the prep teams fashion sense then?" Senta asked in almost a teasing tone as she placed her food back on the table. It was now Morlais' turn to laugh.

"Not really, no," Morlais said with a shake of her head. There was something about Senta that just made Morlais like her.

"Don't worry, I don't like it much either and none of them were aloud to touch your outfits." Morlais could feel herself sighing in relief. If any of the Things had placed even a finger on a single piece of fabric, Morlais was almost certain that it would be worst than the fish.

"Your District partner's stylist, Mayton, helped a little with your costumes," Senta made a face at that, "but the real genius behind all this was my cousin, Cinna. He made a few suggestions here and there." Morlais perked up at that.

"Your cousin's Cinna? As in the Cinna, the stylist of Katniss Mellark?" Senta nodded her head.

"Yes, and he seems to think you will rival the Girl on Fire when I am finished with you. Now eat and when you're finished we'll get you ready for the chariots."

* * *

Morlais stared at the reflection in the mirror. The figure staring back at her had an air of unearthly beauty and for a second Morlais almost forgot that she was looking at herself.

Her large green eyes were framed by a thick line of gold that seemed to draw out the flecks of the priceless mineral that were usually hidden within them. A kaleidoscope of emeralds and muted jades intermixed across her eyelids with shades of sapphire and azure. Her usually unruly hair hung down over her left shoulder in a controlled bronze mess of a ponytail.

As for her dress, it was simply breathtaking.

The green fabric of the strapless bodice was woven together in intricate braids that covered her chest and torso in a heart shape. It gave the appearance that she was dressed in seaweed. The skirt was made of a multitude of different silky fabrics, none of which Morlais could name. They swirled together downward from the top, creating a vortex of ocean blues and dark greens all falling at different lengths around her thighs and knees. If Morlais hadn't known better, she would have thought she was some kind of water creature.

"Do you like it?" Senta's voice asked from her side. Morlais jumped and turned to face the dark skinned lady. She had completely forgotten that there was another person in the room.

"It's alright," Morlais murmured as she turned back to stare at the mirror. There was a slight amount of shock that had begun to set in. She looked so different. It was unnerving.

Senta sent a suffering look Morlais' way, "You don't like it then."

"No, no, I love it. Really, I do," Morlais tried to reassure her with a wave of her hand, "I'm just not used to looking so... clean," she finished lamely.

Senta laughed, "So, you do like it!"

"Yeah, I do. Thanks," Morlais said in a small voice, still mesmerized by the reflection.

"You are most welcome," Senta said with a satisfied smile, "We, my cousin and I that is, wanted you to look like some water creature. A merperson, or maybe a siren." As she talked, Senta missed the humorous look Morlais gave her.

"Now for the final piece," Senta continued with a clap of her hands. She hurried away to a table on the other side of the room. Sitting on the table was an awkward looking bundle wrapped in a dark grey fabric. Senta quickly undid the fabric and withdrew a beautiful looking diadem of pale golden pink.

"It's supposed to look like coral from the bottom of the ocean," Senta said as she walked back over to Morlais and gingerly began to place it on her head. "And when a hidden button on the side is pushed," she tapped a spot on the crown, "it turns on a hologram that makes the wearer appear to be submerged in water."

As Morlais stared into the mirror, she had to disagree. It didn't look like she was submerged at all; it looked like she was draped in the water.

Her whole body glistened like the ocean on a sunny day. The skirt of the dress, which before had lain flat against her, now seemed to have a life of its own as it swirled and danced to a melody only it could hear. From the back of the dress, where there had once been nothing, a waterfall fell all the way to the ground and trailed behind her like she imagined a cape would.

If Morlais had thought she looked beautiful and unearthly before, it was nothing compared to now.

Senta taped the diadem again and as suddenly as it had all appeared, it was gone.

"We don't want to ruin the surprise for everyone else before the ceremony begins. Come now, the chariots await," Senta took a firm hold of Morlais' arm and herded her towards a door to the right and into a long hallway.

"During the opening ceremonies, remember to be friendly," Senta advised as they traipsed towards the elevator at the end of the hall, "You'll get more sponsors that way." Morlais glanced at Senta with a pinched expression as a thought suddenly entered her mind.

"You're not going to make Dilan and I hold hands are you?"

"What? Oh, that is completely up to you."

"It's just, didn't Cinna make Katniss and Peeta hold hands in their opening ceremony?" Morlais questioned.

"Umm... I don't know. I never asked him. It seems like something he'd come up with, but for all I know they could have done that by themselves," Senta replied. Morlais nodded and fidgeted in place with a slight amount of relief as they came to a halt and waited for the elevator doors to open.

"So tell me, who was that boy your district partner volunteered for? You seemed close to him." Senta's voice penetrated through the silence softly as if she was aware that she was approaching dangerous waters. Morlais, in turn, grimaced. That was most certainly the last thing she wanted to discuss, but she found herself opening her mouth to answer anyway.

"Yea, well, I guess he could be considered my brother, though I'm not sure that describes the relationship perfectly. I'm the only parent-like figure he's ever truly known." Senta rose an eyebrow at that.

"Really? What happened to his birth parents?

"Uh, I'm not sure what exactly happened to his father, but his mother was only sixteen when she had him. From what I know she took pretty good care of him," Morlais paused for a moment, wondering how best to proceed on such a delicate subject. Finally she decided that there was no better way then bluntly, so she said,"until she was reaped for the Games when she was eighteen, that is. I've taken care of him ever since."

For a second after Morlais finished speaking Senta looked like she was about to say something but then decided better of it and closed her mouth.

"So, how do you like the Capitol so far?" Senta finally asked a few minutes later as neutrally as she could. Morlais smiled thankfully, relieved at the change in subject. She was about to answer when the sound of a sliding door broke into their conversation. The elevator had arrived.

They rode down to the lowest level of the Center with only light conversation to fill in the time. When the doors opened once more however, silence descended on them as Morlais stared in awe at the gigantic stables they had entered.

Teams of horses stood at attention, not seeming to mind the harnesses that attached them to large, black chariots. All around the room other tributes in varying costumes of ugliness were being loaded onto the contraptions. It took a full five minutes for Senta to snap Morlais out of her revere and begin to herd her over to the District 4 chariot.

When she finally did, she whispered in Morlais' ear, "Try not to let flies in." With that Morlais snapped her jaw shut and tried not to gape too much. That didn't stop her from taking in her surroundings though.

Off to her right, Morlais could see both of District 3 covered in only electrical wire. A little farther away the tributes of District 10 looked like big cows. Morlais couldn't help but laugh a little when she saw them. They looked ridiculous.

Morlais was so busy snickering that she forgot to pay attention to where she was going. She was relying on Senta to be directing, but she must have not been paying attention either, because the next second Morlais' shoulder rammed right into a someone's chest.

"Watch were you're going District 4," growled a deep voice. Morlais glanced up slowly at the face of a very irate District 7. When she meet his eyes she couldn't help but giggle. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought that he was a girl with his long eyelashes and beautifully sculpted, high cheek bones. He almost reminded her of a princess.

His dark, brown eyes narrowed, "Think somethings funny 4?" Morlais swallowed her laughter and shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. He must have known what she was thinking though because his fists clenched at his sides and he snarled at her, corrupting his gorgeous face.

"Silas, we need to get ready for the chariots to leave," came a high pitched, screechy voice from behind him. Morlais couldn't hold in her amusement anymore when she saw who it was. She dissolved into laughter and Senta had to grab her before she fell to the ground.

It was District 7's, or Silas', partner; Keely was her name, if Morlais wasn't mistaken. While Silas looked like he could be some female royalty, this girl looked so much like a troll that Morlais could barely breath. It didn't help that her voice was so annoyingly feminine either. It just made the whole situation even more comical.

As Morlais' laughter filled the air, Silas' eyes darkened in anger and his partner looked like she wanted to to strangle Morlais.

"You watch your back 4. You'll be the first that I kill in the arena," Silas snapped at her. In seconds, Morlais' whole demeanor changed. Her laughter was cut short and she glared at the boy in front of her.

"Whatever you say Princess," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

It was probably best that at that moment Senta dug her fingers into Morlais' arm and dragged her away quickly towards the rest of the District 4 ensemble.

As they approached the others, Morlais could make out Finnick talking to Dilan, who was decked out in an absurd costume, along with some weird creature that Morlais figured was Mayton, Dilan's stylist. If Morlais had thought that the Things were creepy, Mayton was ten times worst. She didn't think there would ever be enough words to describe him properly. He honestly looked like a big blob of goo.

"Hullo," Senta said to the group at large when she and Morlais reached the rest of them, "Sorry for the wait. Morlais here, was busy making enemies out of the District 7 tributes." Finnick swiveled his head to look at her with an alarmed expression.

"You did what?!" he exclaimed.

"Relax Odair," Morlais said calmly with a roll of her eyes, "I wouldn't have wanted them as allies anyways. Princess over there would have killed me in my sleep first chance he got and the Troll would have driven me mad with that high voice of hers." Dilan snickered as he heard her nicknames for Silas and Keely

"That's not the point!" Finnick huffed.

"Then what is?" Morlais asked with an exasperated sigh. He was getting way too worked up about all this.

"You shouldn't be making people hate you. They'll just work harder to kill you once the games start!"

"They would have been trying to kill me anyways!"

"You know, she has a point," interjected Dilan. Finnick fixed him with a glare causing Dilan to hold up his hands in surrender.

"Fine. Take her side, will you," Finnick seethed, "You're only agreeing with her 'cause she's pretty today." Dilan's cheeks seemed to glow red.

Off to the side, Morlais could see Senta smiling widely and shaking her head, "As interesting as this argument is, the ceremony is about to start," she said lightly. Finnick looked at her for a second, startled, and then jumped into action, manhandling Morlais onto the chariot and then shoving Dilan next to her.

"Now remember, be friendly!" Finnick ordered her, "Smile and wave to the audience. Blow kisses their way. Make them love you."

Morlais rolled her eyes again and grumbled, "Of course your highness," under her breath. She then shifted her gaze to her side to where Dilan was standing relaxed with a small smile on his face as he stared in the other direction. She eyed his outfit with distaste.

"What was your stylist thinking? You're practically naked," Morlais snorted. Dilan looked at her startled. This was after all the first time she had spoken to him since the first day on the train. He then glanced down at his almost non-existent clothing. Netting covered the bare essentials and his chest. The only other part of the costume was the green seaweed looking fabric that was woven into the net.

"Oh, he probably thought that the more skin everyone saw the better," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"I can tell," Morlais replied dryly, "I see they have you wearing the crown too," she indicated the coral diadem placed amidst his golden blond curls.

"Yeah, thank goodness to. When it's on I don't feel quite so exposed and personally, I think it makes me look better," he grinned. Morlais began to smile back, but caught herself as the corners of her mouth began to twist upwards. Instead she scowled at him, and turned to look the other way. He was the enemy. She couldn't forget that.

In the distance, Morlais could see District 1 pulling out of the stables.

"We should turn on the crowns," Morlais said, grudgingly turning back to look at Dilan, "I'll turn on your's if you'll do mine." He nodded in agreement, his face blank as he leaned forward slightly to press the button on the side of the crown. Once her's was on, Morlais did the same for his.

As she returned to her original position and caught a good look of his outfit now that the crown was working, Morlais had to admit that he did actually looked good that way.

Like her, the crown created an illusion of being drenched in water. His tanned skin practically glowed. From his shoulders the waterfall tumbled, but unlike her, it seemed to carry over onto is chest and arms and legs giving him slightly more decency than he had had before.

"You're right, it does look better," she admitted, turning to look away. Beside her, she could hear him snort in amusement, but he said nothing as their chariot jerked forward and they rode into the view of the audience.

The moment they entered the stadium, the sound became deafening. Morlais could barely hear over the screaming of the crowed. She was sure that if she was to catch a glimpse of herself on the screen, her face would be slack jawed and probably a little overwhelmed.

She felt a poke in her side and when she turned to look at him, Dilan was grinning manically down at her.

"Want to out do the Girl on Fire?" he asked with a mischievous look in his eyes.

"Why, what are you thinking?" she questioned suspiciously.

"Just go along with it." And before another word could be spoken, he had slipped an arm around her waist and had hoisted her up to place her on his shoulder.

Morlais would had fought, but figured that would be a good way to fall off her precarious perch and off the chariot. Instead she settled for glaring down at Dilan and snapping, "Finnick put you up to this, didn't he." Dilan laughed and tilted his head up to look at her, but didn't say anything which, to Morlais, was as good as a yes.

"Don't worry," Dilan beamed at her, "the crowd loves it. Now wipe that frown off your face and smile and wave." Morlais sighed deeply before fixing her gaze on the cheering audience.

With what felt like a lot of effort, she forced a smile on her face hoping that it didn't end up looking like a grimace. Then, with her free hand that wasn't woven through Dilan's hair for support, she did exactly as Finnick and Dilan had told her to. She waved at them, occasionally blowing a kiss towards an unsuspecting person, and in general tried to sway their hearts into sponsoring her.

It was a good thing she was so practiced at acting, otherwise she was sure she would have failed dismally.

As the chariots filed out of the thoroughfare and into the circle in front of the president's raised platform, Morlais felt relief that it was almost over. It had seemed like all eyes were upon her and Dilan as they had made their way down the runway. People all around them had been screaming their names and throwing flowers their way. She had even seen a few people trying to jump out of the stands to get closer to them only to be pulled back. Morlais would never admit it to him, but Dilan was right that they had probably outdone Katniss Mellark.

When the chariots come to a halt, Dilan slid Morlais off his shoulder with a flourish and gracefully set her next to him. It was all Morlais could do not to glare at him for treating her like she was nothing more than a rag doll, so she focused her gaze on the President's paper white hair as he welcomed the tributes with his opening speech instead.

The speech seemed to take forever, so, Morlais wasn't surprised when she looked around as the chariots took a final lap around the circle before exiting into the Training Center and realized that is had grown dark. Oddly enough, she could still see the details of the chariot's decor clearly. It was as if she had a close light to see by, but the only lights she knew of where the ones lighting up the street and those shouldn't be giving off that much light.

Twisting her head around to try and figure out where it was coming from, Morlais caught sight of Dilan and realized just what it was.

"Dilan?" Morlais started hesitantly, "Are you glowing?" Dilan, who had been staring at her with the same look of disbelief on his face, blinked, startled, before looking down at himself and then turning a laughing face toward her.

"Appears so, but then so are you," he said with humor, "Guess Senta forgot to mention that to you, like Mayton forgot to say anything to me?" he asked.

"Yeah," Morlais said grumpily barely noticing as they entered the Training Center. She did however notice when the chariots halted abruptly and nearly knocked her off. If Dilan hadn't grabbed her wrist, she would have been laying on the floor.

"Please tell me no one saw that," Morlais told Dilan with closed eyes, still suspended at an angle from the chariot.

"No one saw a thing?" he said in an unconvincing voice that sounded more like a question then a statement. Morlais opened her eyes and glanced around the room to see that nearly everyone was openly laughing as they stared at her. A few had the decency to try to hide their amusement, but there weren't many.

"Right," Morlais grumbled as she righted herself and jumped off the chariot, "I'm leaving." With that she stormed away in a absolutely foul mood and boarded the elevated just as it was about to close it's doors.

Afterwards, she would claim that what happened next was in no way her fault, but if she was honest with herself, she was for the second time that day not paying attention to where she was going. She was too busy being embarrassed about the gales of laughter she had left behind her.

Entering the elevator, she ran straight into a solid figure, lost her balance, and found herself falling to the floor. The person she had run into tried to grab her, but ended up losing it's balance as well and fell towards her. As they landed painfully on the ground, one on top of the other, their legs became tangled in such a mess that neither could move from their awkward positions.

And that was how Morlais found herself on the floor of the elevator with Gale Hawthorne stuck on top of her.

_A.N. And so ends another chapter. I'll begin the next one straight away because I feel kind of bad leaving Morlais on the floor with a stranger on top of her, but I can see how it's going to play out already and I've been laughing all day. Well, that's all, and I'll talk to you all next chapter._

_P.S. I made slight changes to the other two chapters, so if you've already read them, you should probably go look for them. In chapter one, I tampered with the ninth flashback and just after the tenth. In two, I fixed a few things in her conversation with Dilan, because some things didn't make sense after I changed chapter one. _

_Sincerely, _

_Pen_


End file.
